


you're as sharp as a knife and you fit like a glove

by blackkat



Series: Crossover and Fusion Drabbles [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flirting, Harry Potter was Raised by Sirius Black, Humor, M/M, Minor Violence, Red Shirt Death Eaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 18:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16815721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Sirius Black grabs his godson and flees to Italy after Godric's Hollow. Landing in the middle of organized crime, curses, and malevolent ghosts was most definitely not part of the plan, but there might be a few perks.





	you're as sharp as a knife and you fit like a glove

“You exorcise _one_ nasty ghost and suddenly you're a damn debutant,” Sirius tells Harry, exasperated. “One with a title and lands at that. Hot shit, in other words.”

Harry gurgles at him, sounding pleased. Sirius doesn’t take it personally; bits of plastic please Harry right now. If he is laughing at Sirius’s suffering, it’s only because he laughs at _everything_. The hundred roses currently filling the dining table are no exception.

Eyeing them, Sirius rubs at his forehead. That’s a hell of a lot of roses.

“I'm never going to laugh about James courting Lily ever again,” Sirius promises, shoving the massive vase back a few inches so he can put Harry's oatmeal on the table. Then he pauses, grimaces, and allows, “Well, I won't laugh _as_ hard. Mostly. _Usually_.”

There's a loud, if polite knock at the door.

Sirius groans, but he checks that Harry's highchair is inescapable without a healthy dose of magic and pushes to his feet. “If that’s more flowers, we’re moving,” he tells his godson. “I only just recovered from the orchids.”

Harry laughs, banging at the tray with gleeful abandon, and Sirius smiles. “Yeah,” he agrees, leaning in to kiss the top of Harry's head. “Me too.”

The knock comes again as he straightens, and Sirius calls, “One second!” even as he checks that his wand is up his sleeve but easy to draw, that the dull glow of the nastier charms he laid near the threshold hasn’t faded. They were a pain to set, and it’s almost enough to tempt Sirius to actually use the Black family’s Italian summer home, but he’s not that desperate yet. The Black version of a summer home is like Grimmauld Place but with more blinds, and Sirius doesn’t hate himself _that_ much.

When he checks the peephole, there's no sign of Death Eaters on the other side, which means his day is already looking up. There _is_ , however, a black fedora with an orange band, tilted down, and Sirius warily checks for any sign of flowers before he pulls the chain and opens the door.

“Reborn,” he says, bemused. “You're actually knocking this time?”

Reborn smirks at him, tipping his hat back. “Chaos,” he says, which—Sirius’s Italian isn't _that_ bad that he’d forget a form of greeting, which that definitely isn't. It’s probably just a Reborn thing. Like the pet chameleon perched on his shoulder. “I want to _win_ your heart, not give you a heart attack. Knocking seemed the best course.”

“I appreciate it,” Sirius says dryly, and looks Reborn over, a quick glance to make sure there's nothing out of place. Someone using Polyjuice probably wouldn’t be able to mimic that particular lazy, threatening ease, though; Reborn seems to have the market cornered there. And—

There's blood on the cuff of his orange shirt.

“You're _bleeding_ ,” Sirius says, alarmed, and jerks the door the rest of the way open, then grabs Reborn and drags him in. There's no one else in the hall, but Sirius quickly slams the door, throws all the bolts, and triggers the wards.

“Just a scratch,” Reborn says, but it’s more amused than dismissive. Still, when Sirius turns, he’s already pulling his suit jacket off and rolling up his sleeve. “Did you know there were three rather disreputable men lurking outside the building?”

Fear flickers, slides into fury, and Sirius takes a short sharp breath. “No,” he says grimly, “I didn’t.” Then he pauses, looking at Reborn and that sly smile, and replays Reborn’s words. “ _Were_?”

“Were,” Reborn agrees, like he isn't a Muggle, like he didn’t just take out three likely Death Eaters. Sirius has to swallow, because he might have smashed a curse and exorcised a vengeful ghost tied to a family, but—Reborn doesn’t seem as if he needs much help on an average day.

Reborn smirks, and it’s not the sort of thing that should be charming. Sirius is used to always being the bad boy in any equation, but in the face of career criminals and that _look_ he’s starting to understand the attraction. When he gives Sirius a narrow, assessing look, it’s…not as uncomfortable as Sirius would have thought.

“You're not surprised,” he says, and one brow rises. “Get a lot of admirers lurking outside your door, then?”

“You're the only one recently,” Sirius retorts, and Reborn smiles, touches a finger to the brim of his hat.

“I’d like to keep it that way,” he says lazily. “And since you tossed Daemon Spade out of the mansion, the Vongola owe you a debt. Plenty of spare rooms and security. And me, of course.”

“Just to sweeten the pot?” Sirius asks dryly, but he lets his eyes fall on Harry, still entertaining himself with a plastic spoon. Voldemort’s followers keep finding them, and short of a Fidelius Charm—not Sirius’s first choice, given how the last one turned out—or blood wards of some kind—which Sirius _can't_ create since he’s not closely enough related to Harry—there's no way to stop them from coming. The Death Eaters may have lost their Dark Lord, but they're out for revenge now, and that makes them even more dangerous.

“I'm the sweetest part of any pot,” Reborn says, dangerously cheerful, and he glances over at Harry as well. Smirks, and says, “Timoteo is so grateful for the exorcism he’ll probably even give you his youngest son as a babysitter.”

Sirius met Xanxus briefly, but no ten-year-old should be that scary. Still, it’s tempting; Sirius would give Xanxus good odds against a _dragon_ , never mind a very mortal Death Eater.

The apartment is already too big a risk to stay at. Either way, Sirius is going to have to find somewhere safe, and whether he stays at the Vongola mansion permanently or not, it’s a good place to regroup. He’d thought coming to Italy would be enough, but—apparently not.

“No more flowers,” he tells Reborn warily.

“Roses are a symbol of my deep and abiding passion,” Reborn says, but he’s smirking. “You broke my curse, and you defeated an ancient enemy. Fairy tales would be disappointed in me if I didn’t court you correctly.”

“Buy me a pint at the local pub,” Sirius says, exasperated. “If you're looking to get into my trousers—”

“Into your heart” Reborn corrects, and catches Sirius’s hand to raise it to his lips. It would be a more effective gesture if he wasn’t bleeding everywhere. “Though I certainly wouldn’t say no to—”

Harry shrieks gleefully, and with a massive crash a figure in dark robes smashes through the kitchen window in a spray of glass. Instantly, Sirius spins, wand in hand, and a Shield Charm blooms around Harry, catching the shards. In the same moment, there's the crack of a gunshot, and the Death Eater collapses to the floor.

“I think we should be leaving,” Reborn says, lowering his gun, and the look on his face is something dark and intent and dangerous. “I have tickets to the zoo, and it would be a shame to miss that.”

“The zoo,” Sirius repeats, hauling Harry out of his chair and summoning the bag with their emergency supplies from the bedroom. There's no time to pack more thoroughly.

Reborn’s look is a smug challenge. “A good first date,” he says. “And it’s so easy to dispose of bodies around wild animals.”

Sirius can't help but laugh, even as he shoulders the bag. “Forward-thinking, I like that in a man,” he jokes.

Reborn winks and gets the door for him. “I’ll win you over yet,” he says, and pulls his cell phone out of a pocket. “Do you want your suite north-facing or with a view of the gardens?”

Apparently there's no use in arguing, not that Sirius really wants to. “Surprise me,” he suggests, and hexes the man coming out of the stairwell. When he glances back, Reborn is watching him, narrow and assessing but also admiring.

“A hundred roses weren’t enough,” he decides. “How do you feel about two hundred?”

“I’ll transfigure them into snakes and hide them in your bed,” Sirius tells him. “Duck.”

Reborn doesn’t duck, just steps aside to let the curse skim between them. In the same motion, he takes a shot, and the Death Eater shrieks as he’s thrown back.

“As long as you hide in my bed, too,” he says, smirking, and Sirius vindictively charms his hat pink as they hurry down the stairs.


End file.
